In the Waning Light by Loreth Anne White Read Free Book Online Page A

walls. Life jackets. A vintage postcard display rack. Touristy knickknacks on a few shelves. Stairs at the back climbed up to the residence. Pop fridges flanked an archway that led into what was once Crabby Jack’s Cafe, but now appeared to be a vacant room in the throes of renovation, shrouds of drop cloths on the floor, a ladder in the center of the room.
    Meg stepped out from under the covered deck area and, holding her hood against the whipping rain and wind, she squinted up at the top floor where the Sutton men had all lived. There were some lights on up there. She could smell wood smoke from the chimney. Someone was home.
    A dog barked.
    She hesitated, the sound of the foghorn moaning in the mist. Thunder clapped, and rain redoubled its assault. She ran carefully back to her truck, avoiding the black puddles. She’d check in come morning.
    Back inside the camper, she shook out of her wet gear, pulled on a fleece jacket, and turned on the gas heater. It clunked and grumbled to life, blowing air with a noisy fan. The interior started to warm as Meg made her bed, shaking out her down sleeping bag. The camper rocked in the wind, rain drumming on the roof. Eager to ease the chill, Meg poured a small glass of brandy, sipped, then took out her phone. She debated for a moment whether to make the call.
    Then, wrapping a throw around her shoulders, she bit the bullet and hit speed dial.
    Jonah answered on the fourth ring, voice thick, as if with sleep.
    She checked her watch, frowned. “It’s me,” she said.
    “Meg. Where . . . where on earth are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for two days.”
    “Shelter Bay.” She inhaled. “I came home.”
    Silence. Then a ruffling sound, the kind sheets might make. Her pulse quickened. When he spoke again, he sounded different, as if he’d moved location.
    “Are you okay, Meg?”
    “I—” She worried her engagement ring around her finger, thinking of Jonah’s final words after she’d tried to talk to him again.
    Keep it. I don’t want it back . . . it’s just a reminder of what didn’t work. I don’t need a trophy for that.
    “I will be.”
    “What’re you doing there?”
    “I’m going to prove it,” she said quietly. “I’m going to write the story that everyone says I can’t. I’m going to go back into the past, to work through it all, and put it to bed. The End .”
    A long beat of silence.
    “Can you?”
    “Yes. No . . . I don’t know. But I’m going to try. And, Jonah . . .” She closed her eyes, taking a moment to corral her emotions. “When I’m done, when I’ve written The End , I’m coming back to Seattle, and—” Thickness caught in her throat. She took another beat to marshal herself. “—I . . . hope you’ll still be there.”
    A soft curse.
    She closed her eyes.
    “Meg—”
    “Who’s with you?”
    “I . . . listen, Meg . . . you were the one who walked out on me. On us. You chose to end it.”
    She scrunched her eyes tighter, a hot burn rising in her chest.
    He’s been patient, so patient, and I just blew through it all . . .
    “I came to Shelter Bay because I want to win you back,” she said softly. “I want the things we spoke about. Children. A family. A proper home—walls and a roof. I want to find a way forward, and I want it to be with you.”
    “Meg, I . . . I’ll always love you. You know that?”
    She killed the call, hands shaking.
    Shit. She scrubbed her hands hard over her face.
    What have I done . . .

    “Whoa, Lucy, what’s up, girl?” Blake Sutton came running down the stairs in socked feet at the sound of excited barking. He ruffled his black Lab’s fur as he entered the dimly lit office. Cupping his hand against the glass he peered into the dark. He’d thought he’d heard knocking, but the thunder was loud. Rain hammered a din on the tin roof—the old wooden structure creaking like an ancient mariner’s ship in the storm. The buoys tied to the rafters outside beat a steady